Chapter 159

Creak, creak— A decrepit hearse, looking somewhat like one hired by a funeral home, pulled up to the station. It was drawn by a Bone Dragon whose skeleton bore mottled patches. The moment it stopped, the dragon lazily curled up its tail and gently bit its own wings with its snout, emitting a harsh, grating screech. The driver was a bundle of open air draped in a black cloak, wearing a black gauze skirt and black tights with little lady's boots that reached the ankles. Anyone ignorant of anthropology would fail to recognize this as a human belonging to the formless race; only under glaring light would her true form be exposed, while normally she maintained this invisible appearance.